Ron, The Hero
by themaltesefalcon
Summary: To everyone's surprise but his own, Ron becomes a powerful and successful wizard. Well, he becomes the 4th champion in the Triwizard Tournament anyway. Same thing, right? It's about time he got a piece of the glory!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Check out Batmobile's story, "Ronald Weasley and His Ego." Our stories are very similar, since we wrote them based on the same silly conversation. As so often happens though, after the basic premise was established, our stories veered off in pretty different directions. Their's is much funnier!

* * *

A fourth name flew out of the Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore's hand shot up and caught the scrap of paper automatically. He squinted at the name written on the paper. He paused.

Around the Great Hall murmurs slowly filled the space, rising in volume as Dumbledore continued to be silent. Hermione leaned over to Harry. "Someone must have tampered with the Goblet," she whispered.

Harry felt the dread in his stomach grow heavier. Every year. Every single Halloween something happened which pulled his life apart and usually put him into the fire. He forced himself not to hold his breath as they all waited for Dumbledore to read aloud the fourth name.

Dumbledore hemmed. He brought the piece of paper closer to his eyes. He hawed. "Well," he said, "let us hope that the fourth champion's penmanship is not representative of their ability in other areas." He twinkled and waved his wand over the paper. "Much better!" he smiled.

The Great Hall fell completely silent.

"The fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament is…"

Harry took a great breath in.

"Ronald Weasley."

…

Collectively, every single person in Hogwarts thought, "... What?" at the same time. Except for Dumbledore. He just twinkled some more. No one knows how his mind works.

Everyone in the hall slowly turned to look at Ron Weasley, who was, as usual, found sitting next to his best mate Harry Potter. His face had gone very, very pale, rendering the freckles on his face looking even sharper in contrast. He pointed to his face. "Me?" he clarified, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, Ron. You." Dumbledore smiled again. "Please make your way into the champion's chambers."

Ron gulped. He glanced over at Harry and Hermione. He nodded slowly, and rose to his feet. As he made his way to the front of the Great Hall, the students began to whisper once more.

Most of the Hogwart's students didn't have an opinion yet, and in fact, a great deal of them were merely confirming with each other that Ron was, indeed, Harry Potter's best mate. And perhaps more importantly, Fred and George Weasley's little brother. In fact, despite being a relative unknown, Ron Weasley, everyone quickly agreed, had Potential.

The Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students were torn between disbelief at the seemingly blatant cheating and disregard of an obvious youth.

Harry began to breath normally again. Somehow, miraculously, he hadn't been the one the universe decided to screw over this year. He felt a twinge of guilt. Poor Ron. Was this his fault? If Ron hadn't been his best mate would he still have been chosen? Harry's life was one dangerous misadventure after another, and not (entirely) by choice. Now it seemed it was Ron's turn to suffer. Harry vowed to himself to be as good of a best mate to Ron as Ron had always been to him.

Ron went into the champion's chamber. "Err, hi guys," he said awkwardly, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head.

"What is it?" asked Fleur Delacour, the french champion, with only a hint of an accent. "Do they need us to come back out?"

"Um," Ron stammered.

Cedric Diggory, the champion for Hogwarts, questioned, "You're Ron Weasley, right? Fred and George's little brother?"

"Yeah…"

"Should we head back out then, mate?" Cedric asked, with a broad, friendly expression. He looked completely unworried.

Fleur, on the other hand, looked torn between annoyance at the delay in response, and concern over whether the strange, red-headed little boy was perhaps going to faint.

Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion hadn't even turned away from the fireplace yet, where he appeared to be practicing his best brooding expression.

Ron gulped. "Actually, -"

He was interrupted by a flurry of adults entering the room, including all of the Headmaster's and judges of the tournament. They all appeared, similarly to Fleur, worried and annoyed.

"It is clear that the Goblet of Fire has been tampered with" declared the extremely large Headmistress of Beauxbaton. "And unless you tell me that young Weezley is a Charms prodigy, I sincerely doubt that it was by this little boy!"

Ron frowned. "Hey, " he started, about to protest over the description of him as "little."

"My dear Olympe," said Dumbledore, ignoring Ron's sounds of protest, "You are completely correct that Ronald Weasley could not possibly have caused the Goblet of Fire to have chosen a fourth name. It would take a powerful wizard to tamper with such an old magical artifact."

The Headmaster of Durmstrang, Karkaroff, looked angry, but also as though he wasn't quite sure where to direct that anger. "I would normally not be surprised by the British cheating to allow themselves an extra champion," he sneered, looking straight at Crouch, the British ministry official in charge. "However, even I am hard-pressed to believe that you would cheat to allow this pathetic little boy a chance in such a dangerous tournament!"

Ron was starting to get a bit steamed. "What do you mean -"

"Quite right." Dumbledore continued, steamrolling over Ron's complaints. "I'm sure that no one has risked dealing with the dangerous magic contained in the Goblet of Fire in order to put Ronald Weasley in this tournament. In fact, I see only two possible explanations, unlikely as they both may seem."

Everyone fell silent, waiting for the extremely knowledgable and old wizard's explanation. Except for Ron. He was still sputtering almost incoherently over being deemed a "pathetic little boy."

"I'm the tallest boy in my year" he exclaimed, to the interest of absolutely no one.

"The first explanation," Dumbledore stated grandly, "is that one of the many enchantments on the Goblet of Fire has worn off, and this is a simple case of a powerful magical object misfiring in a way that would, undoubtedly, take a team of Charms Masters to understand."

Though everyone looked doubtful, most of the people in the chamber nodded, understanding that even completely outlandish things were possible when magic was involved. Even the surly Viktor Krum was giving a grudging half-nod at this explanation.

"The second explanation is a bit more complex." Dumbledore continued, his face becoming grave. "Young Ronald Weasley is the best friend and closest confidant of The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. It is possible that one of the same criminals who rampaged at the Quidditch World Cup earlier this year may have decided to cause more mayhem by interfering with this tournament."

"Do you mean someone might've put that little boy's name in the cup in order to hurt him?" Fleur demanded, grasping Dumbledore's meaning more quickly than the rest of the room.

Ron gave up on trying to convince the occupants of the room to stop calling him a little boy. This was getting serious. Some evil wizard was trying to kill him!

"Not at all," Dumbledore said, his eyes regaining a bit of their twinkle.

"But you just said!" interjected Karkaroff, somewhat heatedly, annoyed at the entire situation.

"I said that Mr. Weasley is the best friend of Harry Potter," Dumbledore stated calmly.

"You think someone's trying to use me to get at Harry?" Ron said, sounding a little more excited about the prospect than was warranted. "They'll have to kill me first!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Weasley. Though I'm sure Mr. Potter would be happy to know what a loyal friend they have in you, I do not think the situation will call for anything so drastic." Dumbledore paused thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, I think it's very likely that our villain has simply made a mistake!"

"A mistake!?" shouted Karkaroff. "I'll say!"

"I suspect that this person unknown intended to enter Harry Potter into the tournament, perhaps hoping that one of the challenges would prove fatal. In order to accomplish this they may have stolen a piece of paper, perhaps off of a school-assignment, with what they thought was Harry Potter's signature. And there was their mistake! As you may have noticed earlier, I struggled greatly in trying to read the handwriting of the name on the paper entered. I suspect the person who stole the signature mistakenly believed it to be Mr. Potter's, when in fact, it was the that of his best friend's!"

Silence greeted Dumbledore's speech, as they all struggled to digest such a bizarre story. No one seemed to know how to respond.

Crouch cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, Headmaster, the fact of the matter is that Ronald Weasley is now a player in this tournament."

"What? No! Surely not. There must be some way to prevent the poor child from having to compete," said Madame Maxime, the Beauxbaton Headmistress, compassionately.

"It is an outrage that anyone should force such a young boy to perform in such a dangerous competition!" added Fleur, lending her Headmistress support.

Ron saw his chance for fame and glory slipping out of his grasp. "Wait a second," he started, intending to try to convince them that he should be allowed a shot. Only sporting, after all. And 1,000 Galleons was hardly anything to scoff at.

"No!" Crouch interrupted firmly. "The rulebook is clear. Ronald Weasley must compete if his name came out of the Goblet. If he were to fail to attempt the challenges, he would be in danger of losing his magic!"

Ron sighed in relief. For a second it had looked like he wasn't going to get to have a go! He could totally understand why the Hogwarts professors all looked so grim. That would've been a travesty. Without him, Hogwarts didn't have a chance! Cedrick Duggory was all well and good, Ron could admit. Handsome, even. But, well,... he was a Hufflepuff!

"In that case, all we can do is congratulate our champions," Dumbledore said, less enthusiastically than he might've otherwise. The students were dismissed to go back to their dorms, while the adults stayed behind to discuss more of the implications of this unexpected event.

In the Gryffindor common room, a party was booming. The Weasley twins had taken over their younger brother's PR and were spinning this as the most epic Weasley prank of all time. The fact that Gryffindor got a champion out of it was only the icing on the hilarity! Privately, they may have doubted that everything was as it appeared, but outwardly, they were merely astounded that, "little Ronnikins had it in him!" As a result of their grandstanding, and with the help of their smuggled-in Butterbeer, the consensus of the house was that Ron Weasley was an upstanding member of their society, the quintessential Gryffindor. The fact that his two best friends, Harry Potter, and Know-It-All Granger appeared quietly worried and befuddled, did nothing to deter the partying. It was to this party, that Ron Weasley entered.

Ron looked around. The entire room cheered. "Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!" He blinked. He grinned. Now this was more like it!

Lavender Brown handed him a butterbeer and smiled prettily. Fred and George quickly appeared on either side of him, clapping him on the back, and gesturing to the room at large that their king had arrived. "Couldn't have shared the trick with the rest of us, could ya have?" asked their friend Lee Brown, teasing him with a grin.

"What?" said Ron, grinning back, "And let you tossers steal all the fame?" The entire room laughed and cheered again. From somewhere near the back, someone turned up the radio, and music played louder.

Harry and Hermione quietly nudged their way towards Ron, as he continued to trade sparring jokes with Lee and lap up the entirely unusual attention of his brothers and Lavender.

"Hey Ron!" Hermione called, as the duo gestured towards his dorm room, clearly suggesting that he follow them up to chat.

Ron's face sobered at the sight of his best friends, and he more solemnly disengaged from the group, heading towards the stairs.

As soon as they got to the room, Harry and Hermione began to speak. But Ron held up a hand for silence.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," he said sincerely, looking truly repentant.

"... What?" said Harry, feeling somewhat wrong-footed.

They both looked at eachother in confusion.

Ron decided to try again, "I didn't mean to steal your thunder like that, Harry, and if I'd been able, I totally would've gotten you into the tournament too! I swear it!" As an afterthought he added, "You too Hermione," and he nodded earnestly at her as well.

Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances. "It… it's okay?"

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Hermione asked. "Are you telling us you really did purposefully enter the tournament?" She looked torn between disbelief and concern. Like she wasn't quite sure as to whether she ought to slap him upside the head or bring him to the infirmary.

"No, of course not!" Ron denied belligerently. "I would never try to do something like that without including you guys! I mean, I wouldn't even know how to begin!"

Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances. Again.

"Then what are you apologizing for?" Harry asked, forcing his voice to be gentle.

Ron stared. "You aren't? … I mean… You guys aren't mad? You believe I didn't do it on purpose?"

"Well, of course, Ronald," Hermione said, exasperated. "As if you would do such a thing! As if you were capable!"

Ron was too relieved to be mad at the slight. Though he was starting to wonder why it seemed that no one believed he was able to cheat his way into the tournament… He totally could've! If he'd wanted to.

"Yeah, mate. We know you wouldn't exclude us from your 'mastermind' pranking!" Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

"Soooo," said Ron, "what did you guys want to talk about then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "We wanted to make sure you were okay! And if Dumbledore had said why your name came out of the Goblet!"

"Oh, yeah. That." Ron's face became serious and earnest again, "Harry!" he said, "Someone's trying to kill you again!"

"What?" Harry exclaimed. The feeling of dread that had lifted after his name _wasn't_ called as a champion returned.

"Yeah, Dumbledore said they just got me by mistake... " at this Ron looked down. "I mean, it figures, doesn't it?" he said quietly. "That's the only way I'd get into a thing like this. By mistake…"

Harry looked beseechingly at Hermione, completely out of his depth on how to hand the situation. Not only did he feel guilty for basically forcing his best friend into such a dangerous event, but he had no idea how to deal with insecurities of this nature. Harry always hoped that things like this didn't happen to him… Ron felt upset that they didn't happen to him enough.

"Ron," said Hermione gently. "It might only be a mistake that you got into the tournament, but that doesn't mean anything. It would've been a mistake if any of us had gotten in! Dumbledore's mistake."

"Yeah, I guess," mumbled Ron. "It just hurts a little that no one in that chamber thought I had any chance of succeeding, y'know."

"Well, that's their loss, isn't it? After all, they don't even know you." Hermione pointed out logically, trying to make her friend feel better without lying about his abilities.

"Yeah, mate," Harry added somewhat weakly. "We think you can do it." Harry had no compunctions about lying when the situation called for it.

"You do?" Ron looked up at them from under his orange eyelashes.

"'Course," Harry said, looking at Hermione helplessly.

"Ron," said Hermione, taking on a faux-stern voice, "If you go downstairs you'll find an entire House full of people who believe in you. We're all going to help you through this."

Ron grinned. "Thanks, Hermione. Harry. You know how to make a guy feel good."

"Anytime Ron." The trio grinned at each other.

"Alright! Enough of this sappy stuff" said Ron, turning around and opening the door. He positioned himself on the top of the bannister to the stairs. "GRYFFINDORS RULE!" he shouted as he slid down.

Hermione groaned. "He really has no chance, does he?" she asked Harry, somewhat rhetorically.

"He really doesn't," Harry agreed good-naturedly with a fond smile and a bit of a shrug.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning found Hermione sitting at the Great Hall with a giant book in front of her, casually spooning oatmeal up to hover uncertainly by her mouth for a few seconds before putting the food back down in a repeating loop. Her eyes were intent on the book she was reading, and it took Harry and Ron two tries to gain her attention. "Oh, sorry, did you say something? Yes, good morning," she said distractedly.

Exasperatedly, Ron grabbed the book that was in front of her. "What's this then? Triwizard Tournaments Through the Ages? What are you reading this for?," he demanded, taking some bacon off the serving dish.

Finally, Hermione looked up with a frown. "Give that back, Ronald." She looked around the room, blinking a little. "Is it nine already?"

"Hermione, how long have you been here?" asked Harry, somewhere between amused and concerned.

"I've been here since six. And honestly, Ron, did you really just ask me why I might be reading a book about the Triwizard Tournaments? You literally just got picked to be a champion. Why do you think I'm reading it?" she'd have sounded a bit more scathing, but having realized she hadn't actually eaten any of her oatmeal, she was quickly shoveling it in now.

"Oh, do you think this might have some useful information?" asked Ron, grabbing a fifth piece of bacon.

"Yes, Ronald," Hermione replied with a bit of a sigh, in-between a mouthful of her breakfast. "That is what I've been hoping."

"Well, thanks, Hermione. I can't imagine reading something so boring looking!"

"Hah. Hah," Hermione dead-panned.

"I don't get it?" said Ron, obliviously. He took a large bite of his eighth piece of bacon and accepted a letter from one of the school's mail-owls.

"Never mind, Ron. For a moment I thought you were trying to make a self-deprecating joke, but obviously not. … I need a lot more caffeine" Hermione sighed again.

"So, do you think you learned anything useful?" asked Harry.

"Well," Hermione began, "I did learn that many of the first tasks in these tournaments involve somehow battling a dangerous magical animal. In 1499, they actually brought in a Nundu! But they ended up having to cancel that tournament after it killed more than thirty wizards, including one of the judges. As a matter of fact, -"

"Look, nevermind that," Ron said, interrupting Hermione and provoking a rather annoyed glare in response. "Charlie's just sent me a letter."

"Your brother?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, he already knows that I've been chosen as one of the champions. Apparently one of the handlers on the reserve where he works is related to one of the judges. Gossip spreads fast, huh? And this time the gossip is about me!" he grinned, clearly thrilled.

Harry attempted to share a concerned glance with Hermione, but she was focusing all of her attention on her breakfast, still offended by Ron's earlier interruption.

"Oh, huh, this is weird," said Ron, grabbing an eleventh bacon slice.

"What?"

"Charlie gave me a bunch of advice on how to deal with dragons. I guess he's hoping I'll follow his path and become a dragon handler… Guess he realizes how much potential I have now that I've been selected as a famous TriWizard champion, huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Or maybe, Ronald, he was trying to help you out in case you have to fight a dangerous beast in the first task? Like how I was saying before you interrupted me to read your letter aloud!"

"Yeah, maybe," Ron allowed, still seemingly oblivious to Hermione's justified anger. "Or maybe he just wants to tell people he helped me. Y'know, when I win the tournament?"

This time Hermione did participate in the sharing of concerned glances with Harry. Concerned and confused. "What?"

"Well, when I win the tournament, he probably wants to be able to tell people he helped me win." Ron nodded in a knowing sort of way. "People can be kind of silly when fame gets involved. Right, Harry?" he nudged him commiseratingly. "They don't realize how hard it can be sometimes, y'know? The sacrifices it takes to be a hero."

Hermione was dumbfounded. Was it even possible for Ron's (limited amount of) fame to have gone to his head this quickly? He had to be setting some sort of record.

Harry chuckled. "No being a hero for me this year, mate. That's all up to you now," he nudged him back.

"Right," Ron grinned. "I'm gonna kick ass." He popped the last bite of his fourteenth piece of bacon into his mouth.

Hermione poured herself another cup of coffee. It was honestly too early to deal with whatever was going on here.

Throughout the day, Hogwart's residents and guests approached Ron to offer their sympathy... "Bloody Ravenclaws, what are they on about, eh?"; support... "Go Gryffindor!"; forgiveness… "Hufflepuffs are weird."; and heckling… "No one cares what you have to say, you slimy Slytherin!"

"Ronald! That was a first-year Hufflepuff!" Hermione pointed out irately.

"Eh, really? Probably mis-sorted."

McGonagall approached Ron after class with a pinched look on her face. "I am required to inform you, Mr. Weasley, that champions are not required to take end-of-the-year finals. Instead, you shall be given an automatic pass into next year's classes, dependent only upon your survival."

Hermione's face was a painting of horror. "B-but, Professor! You know what this means…"

"I don't have to do any studying this year!" Ron cheered, pumping a fist into the air.

McGonagall's face drew itself up even higher. "You would be well-advised to continue to complete homework assignments and attend classes, Mr. Weasley, if you want to have any hope of passing your O.W.L.s, which are to be taken at the end of next year."

"I don't have to go to class?" Ron wondered aloud, a stupefactious grin appearing on his face.

Her shoulders ram-rod straight, McGonagall did not deign to grace him with a response before turning and exiting the classroom apace.

Hermione moaned into Harry's shoulder, where she'd buried her face.

"There, there, Hermione," Harry said, patting her back gently. "Let's just get you back to the Common Room, yeah?" He gestured for Ron to follow, but Ron took no notice. He was still staring into space with a dazed expression of glee. Harry shrugged and led the incoherently muttering girl out of the room, trying to ignore the growing concern that this was the year both of his friends were going to finally lose it completely.

A week passed. Ron hadn't attended a single class since McGonagall's begrudgingly given permission. Hermione was not taking it well; she'd actually growled at Neville Longbottom the other day when the boy had tried to take Ron's usual seat in Herbology.

Ron had never been so happy. Everyone in the castle knew his name. His mother had taken to sending him a care package almost every day, filled with his favorite sweets and tearful notes. He wasn't sure why she was so worried, but maybe that was how it was for the mother's of heroes. Lavender Brown kept offering to play chess with him, and even though she was spectacularly bad, her low-cut tops and tinkly laughter were unusual and welcome additions to his life. If only Hermione would stop acting so jealous, practically begging him to spend time with her in the library instead. Women.

Harry was far more rational. In fact, Harry was really stepping up as his mate this year, Ron mused. Just this morning, Harry had suggested a brilliant way to shake off over-eager fans - pretend to be studying for the tournament! He'd even given Ron a giant book on dangerous magical creatures, which Ron had open in front of him now. The cover of the book was wicked cool, and Ron had already noticed a couple of younger girls giving him admiring glances from the other side of the Common Room. Hermione was even leaving him alone for once! And, well, he wouldn't admit it to Harry, but some of the information in the book wasn't half boring.

Time flew by, and before Ron knew it, the tournament was upon him. "How are you feeling?" Harry asked, pouring him some more juice.

Ron actually felt completely fine. Maybe reality just hadn't hit him yet, but somehow he wasn't nervous. Across from them, Fred and George were passing out "Ron for President!" buttons to a steady stream of well-wishers. "I think I'll be fine. It's all about preparation, y'know?" Ron said sagely, winking at a cute Ravenclaw getting a button.

"'Course it is mate," Harry said bracingly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're gonna be fine."

Hermione, on the other side of Ron, looked ill. "You know we love you, right?"

"I love you guys too," Ron said, patting her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry so much."

Tearfully, she pulled him in for a hug. "I'll never forget you."

Ron shared an incredulous glance with Harry.

An hour later, Ron sat in the champion's tent, waiting for the tournament to start. It turned out the task was stealing an egg from a nesting dragon. Blimey! This might be harder than he'd thought. 'Course, he'd handled Norberta perfectly easily back in first year, so how hard could it honestly be?

Each of the champions picked a small model of a dragon out of a bag, to decide which of the four dragons they'd face. Fleur went first. She rummaged in the bag determinedly for over a minute before pulling out the fiercest of the dragons, the Hungarian Horntail.

Poor girl! Ron felt sorry for her. There was no way they taught her how to deal with this at that poncey French school. Weirdly, she was smiling. Grimly, but still.

Viktor Krum nodded at Fleur, almost giving a small bow. Then he too rummaged through the bag for a ridiculously long time, finally pulling out the Chinese Fireball, the second-fiercest of the dragons. What bad luck! He too, looked oddly pleased with his selection.

Cedric went next, nodding solemnly at Fleur and Krum. He pulled out the most dangerous of the two remaining dragons, the Swedish Short-Snout.

That only left the Common Welsh Green dragon. The weakest and most boring one. Ron had read that they usually just slept all the time.

All three of the older champions looked terrified, yes, but also proud. Out of nowhere, Fleur gave Ron a hug. Woah.

"You can do it, little boy. Do not be worried. The handlers are brave men who will rescue you before anything too terrible can happen."

Ron frowned, distracted from her beauty for a moment. "... Thanks?" He pouted.

As he waited for the rest of the champions to complete their tasks, Ron tried to remember what else he'd read about Common Welsh Green dragons. Something about their ears, maybe? He wished Harry was here. Harry was brilliant at this sort of thing. Not remembering stuff from books - actual, real-life stuff. He deserved to be here instead of Ron... No. He couldn't think like that. Ron was a hero too now!

"RONALD WEASLEY!" shouted the announcer, some idiot from the Ministry.

Ron strode out into the arena, his arms spread wide, a big grin on his face for the audience. He waved up at the stands, throwing McGonagall a cheeky salute. Then he looked at the dragon he was supposed to face.

Ron thought he might throw up.

This was the weak dragon described in his textbook? This thing was enormous! Way bigger than Norberta.

He straightened his back. The crowd was deafening.

Right. This was it. Ron walked towards the deadly creature, trying not to shake. The dragon was pretending to sleep. Hah! As if Ron would fall for such an obvious ploy. He continued to approach, his wand in front of him. The dragon lifted one lid lazily. Ron froze.

The dragon slowly stood up, stretching its wings. It was magnificent.

Ron glanced sideways at the audience. Time to be a hero.

Carefully, Ron raised his wand. Taking a deep breath, he shot a third-year sleeping charm at the dragon. Heart pounding violently, he ran and took cover behind a rock. He wiped the sweat off his brow, his chest heaving. If this didn't work...

The dragon considered the red-headed child cowering in front of him. It snorted. This babe was clearly not a threat. Perhaps he would make a nice snack later, but right now the dragon was full. She lay back down and closed her eyes again.

Ron couldn't believe his luck! Maybe he really was cut out for this hero business. Now he just had to get the egg. Creeping forward, Ron tried to think of how he could get under the giant creature.

He'd just have to try to nudge his way under the wing. Now next to the dragon, Ron gingerly placed his hands on her. He pushed. He pulled. Nothing.

The dragon peered down at the annoying child, lids barely opening. She sighed. Clearly, the babe was lost and wanted to huddle under her for warmth. She sighed again. Curse her mothering instincts. Begrudgingly, she lifted her wing, folding the red-head underneath. Troublesome child. Sleep now.

The audience fell stunningly silent. What was happening? Ronald Weasley had disappeared underneath the dragon, after somehow forcing it into an enchanted sleep. Such a thing was unheard of! There was no spell that could do such a thing! Only the Veela had magic like that, and they weren't even human. They began muttering amongst themselves.

It was surprisingly cozy under the sleepy dragon. If his adrenaline weren't still so high, Ron would genuinely consider taking a wee nap. Alas, he had a heroic quest to complete.

Shuffling around, Ron located the golden egg. He tucked it in the waistband of his trousers, pulling his jumper over the small bundle. Time to get out of here. But how? Again, he began pushing and shoving at the underside of the dragon's wing. It was to no avail. This dragon was not budging.

Ron started to feel like he couldn't breathe. There was plenty of oxygen, but the potential embarrassment of needing to be rescued was making him claustrophobic. He shoved harder.

Irritating child. The dragon was losing her patience. She was also beginning to feel a bit peckish. Maybe it was time for that snack… She lifted her wing to release the child.

At last! Ron tumbled out from under the dragon, red-faced and out-of-breath. He looked up at the dragon. The dragon looked down at him. She sniffed him, considering.

No, this child wouldn't be tasty. She let out a huff, flame pouring from her snout. The child scampered backwards, frightened by her casual and majestic display of power. As it should be. Perhaps the child was less simple-minded than it seemed. She huffed again, amused. Farewell, pesky child.

The audience roared in confused delight as Ron reached the exit of the arena. He lifted the golden egg high in the air, turning to face the crowd. So, this was what it felt like to be the hero of your own story. He saw Harry in the stands cheering like a madman, his hair and glasses helplessly askew. Ron felt something warm and bright expand within him. He grinned at his best friend. "Gryffindor forever!"

Then Ron fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

As winter break approached, Ron was still basking in the glow of his astounding victory in the first challenge. The school was torn between treating him like a rock star and dismissing him as a lucky fool. Only the truly discerning realized that his being a lucky fool didn't mean he should be disregarded.

There was some ribbing about his fainting spell, but mostly everyone agreed that it was actually quite impressive he'd managed to hold off until the challenge was over. After all, it was a dragon. A couple of the older girls in the castle seemed to take a lot of pleasure in fawning over, "the brave little man." This was not good for Ron's ego.

One day McGonagall made an announcement. There was going to be a Yule ball in celebration of the tournament and inter-school cooperation. Everyone in 4th year and above was invited. Ron, and most of the other Gryffindor boys, were essentially uninterested in this announcement. Well, until they realized that they were expected to bring dates. And worse, _dance._ McGonagall made a special point of telling Ron that, as a champion, he was required to open the ball with a waltz. This made it imperative that he find an attractive date who would make him look cool. And hopefully one who didn't mind leading, because Ron's dance lessons in the kitchen at the Burrow seemed a lifetime away.

"Who're you going to invite, mate?" he asked Harry as they walked towards the Great Hall. "Any birds catch your eyes?" Ron's overly casual use of outdated slang did nothing to hide his nerves.

Harry looked amused. Side-eying Ron, he responded, "Only Hedwig."

Hermione laughed. "What about you, Ron?"

Ron tried not to show how troubled he was over the matter. "No, no, going to need some time to scope out the field, y'know."

"Anyway, there's no need to worry about it. We've got plenty of time. And with Ron's heroic showing in the tournament, I'm sure he'll have girls clamoring over him for a date." Harry grinned.

"Oi, like you won't have girls lining up to dance with the Boy-Who-Lived!" Ron reparteed, grinning back. Harry always knew just what to say.

"Yes, yes," said Hermione, distracted by the passing Viktor Krum and his giggling entourage, "I'm sure the birds will be _flocking_ to you both."

Ron considered asking Hermione whether she had her eye on anyone, but worried it might be taken as a taunt. Always better to play it safe with women.

Upon seating themselves for dinner, it became apparent that the trio's lighthearted conversation held more truth than they'd realized. Within the space of half an hour, three different girls had come up to Ron and Harry to ask them to the ball. Harry seemed slightly horrified, but Ron took it in stride. He was a hero now, so it was only to be expected.

Fleur Delacour had apparently decided to lock down a date right away. She was flirting heavily with the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, turning up the allure. This strategy was, perhaps, ill-considered, judging by the number of boys humiliating themselves in increasingly absurd fashions. That Veela charm couldn't be denied, and no one was more mortified than Fleur when a first-year Hufflepuff prostrated himself before her, offering up a heart-felt poem of admiration.

Unfortunately, Ron was not especially resistant to the allure of Fleur. As they walked out of the Great Hall, he felt himself be overcome with a hazy, false sense of adoration. Glancing back frantically at Harry, he didn't manage more than an "Eep," before succumbing to the inevitable.

"Fleur, oh glorious, wondrous, Fleur. Never was a champion more graceful nor more silvery-shiny. Your hair smells good, and your smile is so very white. Please, gentle Fleur, won't you consider gracing me with your magnificent... magnificence? Please, please, please," begged Ron.

Fleur looked at him in pity. "Oh, Ronald, you poor little boy, I am so sorry. I, well, of course I will go with you."

"Y-you will?" stuttered Harry behind Ron. This was a sentiment shared by everyone within hearing range.

"Of course she will, Harry! I am a hero now!" Ron exclaimed unguardedly, still under the effect of the Veela's allure.

Fleur stared pityingly at him. "Of course you are. Such a brave little man." She reached down and patted his head. "Don't worry," she said to Harry and Hermione. "I will watch over Ronald at the ball, to make sure he does not hurt himself. I saw how he fainted after the first task, poor child. So delicate. I will protect him." With this statement, she turned and flounced away.

Ron blinked, feeling awareness seep back into his brain. He noticed he was on his knees, and jumped up, flushing red. He wasn't sure how he felt about what had just happened. On one hand, it sure sounded like he'd just been insulted. On the other hand, did the hottest girl in the entire school just agree to be his date? He needed some advice.

That night as the Gryffindor boys were getting ready for bed, Ron shyly approached Dean. Dean knew what was what when it came to women, plus he always gave wicked good advice.

"Hey, Dean?" Ron began, tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, y'know how Fleur Delacour agreed to be my date to the Yule ball?"

"Well, yeah, don't reckon how I could've missed it," Dean said, smiling. "Good for you, mate!"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Thanks." He hesitated. "Look, the thing is… I'm not really sure she's agreed to go with me for the right reasons, y'know? Like, maybe she just said yes, 'cause she felt sorry for me."

"Ah," said Dean wisely, "A pity date."

"Right," Ron agreed, relieved there was a name for what he was trying to describe. "Do you think I should tell her I've changed my mind?"

"Well, it is a _pity_ date." Dean grimaced.

"You're right," Ron said. "A pity date is still a date!" He nodded decisively, feeling a lot better now that he'd talked it over with Dean.

Finally, winter break came. This didn't matter much to Ron, since he hadn't attended a single class for a couple of months now. Life was good.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were lounging in front of one of the fires in the Gryffindor Common Room. "So, Harry," said Ginny inquiringly, "Do you have a date for the ball yet?"

"Nah," replied Harry. "Can't be bothered, honestly."

Ron shook his head with a grin. Actually, he kind of wished the two of them could both go stag, but the duties of a hero never ended.

"I'm going with Neville," declared Ginny. She lifted her nose imperiously, practically daring Ron to make a fuss.

She was mistaken in her expectations however, because not even the over-protectiveness of Ron Weasley extended so far as to suspect sweet, shy Neville Longbottom of being a danger to Ginny's wellbeing. He was confused though. "I thought he was going with Hermione."

"Oh, no," Hermione said, blushing. "I've already said yes to someone else."

Ginny seemed completely unperturbed by the knowledge that she was not Neville's first-choice.

"Who?" Ron demanded.

"It's a secret," said Hermione, smiling somewhat maddeningly.

"It is?" Harry asked, puzzled. "But why?"

"Because!"

Ron was startled by an unusual flash of insight. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook his head. Clearly, Hermione's date was a thing of fiction. While she may have simply invented a date in order to let Neville down gently, there was an even more likely explanation. She was trying to make him jealous.

He should've realized earlier how embarrassing this must be for her. Hermione obviously had a crush on him. They would have to be very gentle with her. A woman's heart was not to be toyed with. Poor girl. He smiled sympathetically at her. Maybe Harry could discretely offer to be her date when she admitted that she'd made it up. Wouldn't want anyone to ridicule her, after all. And Ron now understood that pity dates were nothing to be ashamed of.

The night of the Yule ball arrived, and the Gryffindor boys were putting on their dress robes. Ron twirled in front of the full-length mirror. He looked stunning. His parents understood the importance of the Hogwarts champion's robes, and they'd bought him a set to match Harry's. Harry also looked dashing of course, and Ron vaguely considered that it was a shame he didn't have a date to admire him properly.

The two best friends went down together to the entrance to the Great Hall. Ron was meeting Fleur there. Harry patted him on the back, "Better you than me!" Ron grimaced. Fleur was good for his image but bad for his ego.

Shimmering ethereally, Fleur appeared from behind. She nodded graciously in greeting. "Ronald. Harry."

Swallowing, the two boys stammered their hellos. Awkwardly, Ron held out his arm for the much taller girl.

The Great Hall had been transformed into a fairy-like ballroom with crystal ice figurines twirling in the air. One icicle looked an awful lot like someone had frozen Peeves and stuck him up with the other decorations. Ron and Harry grinned at each other. Wicked.

Some commotion was breaking out behind them. Viktor Krum was entering the hall, and on his arm was a remarkably pretty girl that Ron couldn't place.

A lightbulb went off above his head. That was Hermione!

Wow, no wonder she looked so pleased with herself. Glamours were 7th year charms, and the one she was wearing must be pretty strong to look so seamless. Ron whistled.

Harry glanced back at Ron. "Wow."

"Our Hermione is all grown up, eh?" he said. Bewitching powerful men with advanced spell-work. He was so proud.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking quite pleased with Ron's mature reaction.

Of course, Ron realized abruptly, it probably wasn't just her magical prowess that interested Krum. No, there was more to it than that. Krum must realize that Ron was his only true opponent in the tournament, and he was using Hermione to get to him. This was sobering. Poor Hermione, being strung along by a famous Quidditch star. Ron felt quite indignant for his friend, but he wasn't sure what he could do. Whatever he did, it would have to be subtle. He didn't want Hermione to be embarrassed. In fact, it would be better if Hermione never learned what a cad Krum truly was. This meant that Krum couldn't know that Ron was on to him. The cowardly snake.

Looking around in undirected consternation, Ron realized the solution was right in front of him. Harry was famous. He would know how to handle this kind of situation.

"Harry," Ron began casually, "what would you do if someone was using your friend to get information about you? Hypothetically."

Harry startled. "Eh?" he said intelligently.

"Y'know," prompted Ron, "what if, say, Malfoy, tried to get information about you from, say, Neville? What would you do?"

Harry frowned. "Neville would never tell Malfoy anything."

Ron also frowned. "Well, what if Malfoy had seduced Neville? And Neville's too enthralled with Malfoy's silky blond locks to realize he's being used."

A 5th year Slytherin behind them scurried away to spread what he'd just overheard. Malfoy seducing Longbottom was the craziest thing to happen this year. He couldn't believe he'd get to break the news! This kind of scandal is what he lived for.

Harry look flummoxed. "Er, well, that's a bit difficult, I suppose."

"I know," Ron nodded. "It's a dilemma for sure. Obviously, you wouldn't want to tell Neville and break his poor heart, but at the same time, you don't want Malfoy collecting important intel to bring home to Daddy."

Harry nodded back, getting into the swing of the scenario. "I guess there's only one thing I could do," he said. "Give false information to Neville."

Ron's mouth fell open in amazement at Harry's brilliance. "That's genius, mate!"

Smiling shyly, Harry said it was nothing.

"Nah, Harry, that's brilliant. Truly."

Suddenly, Harry's smile turned wicked. "Malfoy's silky blond locks? Really, Ron?"

Ron blushed.

…

The ball was even more boring than Ron had anticipated. He'd ended up sitting next to the biggest Ministry idiot of them all at dinner - his brother Percy! He literally got a lecture about cauldron-bottom thickness regulations. On the other side of him, Fleur wouldn't stop complaining. Apparently, Hogwarts was inferior in every way to her stupid school, Beux-pansies, or whatever it was called. When the dancing finally began, Ron was actually relieved that he wouldn't have to listen to anymore of the abuse she was hurling towards his beloved school. Unfortunately, Fleur proved perfectly capable of holding a conversation and leading them around the dance floor at the same time. Without the allure subduing his free-will, Ron found himself utterly indifferent to the older girl's many charms. He was genuinely beginning to consider escape-routes.

Eventually, Ron ended up feigning thirst. Fleur took her role of protector quite seriously and rushed off to fetch "poor little Ronnie," some punch. The twins at their worst had nothing on her genuine concern. Disgruntled, he went to wait for her at Harry's table.

"How's it going?" asked Harry.

Ron scowled. "She keeps patting me on the head!"

Harry smiled sympathetically. "You should've come stag like me. I haven't danced once. It's been great."

Ron glared at the tablecloth. "Yeah, well you're not a bloody champion, are you?"

"That's all you," Harry agreed cheerfully. "I saw you were seated next to Percy at dinner. How's he doing?"

Before Ron could give the rude response he wanted, Hermione interrupted them.

"Marvelous party, isn't it?" she gushed. Her face was pretty and flushed from dancing. "Viktor insisted we take a break, so I could rest my feet," she giggled.

Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione didn't sound like herself at all. She was all… girlish and fluttery. Where had their serious, earnest friend gone? This ball was feeling more and more like another tournament task.

"Oh, there's Parvati," Hermione pointed out in a high-pitched rush of air. "I'm just going to go say hi! See you boys later." She hurried off.

Ron saw Fleur at the edge of the room looking around for him. "Harry," he said desperately, "I can't take it anymore. I've got to get away from her."

Harry knew when the time for good-natured ribbing was over. "She's terrifying," he said, nodding solemnly.

Any second, Fleur was going to see them. She was going to come over and force him to dance some more. She'd probably try to lift the punch glass to his mouth like he was an infant. He'd had to forcibly stop her from cutting his meat at dinner. Oh, Merlin. It was too late. They'd made eye-contact.

Panicking, Ron grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him under the table.

"Oi!" exclaimed Harry.

Wide-eyed and frantic, Ron begged, "You've got to help me, mate. She coming for me."

Harry, being the hero that he was, couldn't refuse such an ardent plea. Gesturing for Ron to follow him, he began crawling under tables and between legs to the edge of the ballroom. A couple of humiliating minutes later, they'd reached the courtyard outside the Great Hall.

Leaning back on the wall of the castle, Ron let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry grinned. "I think we left quite an impression on those Durmstrang girls we crawled under. The blonde one looked like she couldn't decided whether to hex us or not."

They laughed. Typical Hogwarts shenanigans. This was more like it.

The rest of the ball passed delightfully. Harry had a pack of cards, and they happily hid behind some rose bushes playing Exploding Snaps and giggling like the school-boys they were. Being a hero was great. Winning fights against dragons, dancing with stunning older women… it was awesome! But nothing beat just hanging out with Harry.


	4. Chapter 4

Following the Yule ball, Ron fell into a comfortable routine of chess, naps, and avoiding the other champions. Well, avoiding the other champions wasn't particularly comfortable. In fact, it was hard work. They were all insane!

Fleur was the highest up on Ron's list of champions to avoid. She kept treating him like some sort of injured baby animal. He'd have thought that ditching her at the ball might've made her angry, but it had just made her more determined to (s)mother him. One of these days he was half-afraid she'd actually try to give him a bath, or something equally humiliating.

Next on the list was Krum. Krum had seemingly given up on subtlety. Under the weak guise of, "getting to know Hermyninny's little friends," (cue girlish giggling), Krum had starting forcing his way at the Gryffindor table each night for dinner. He kept making increasingly ludicrous suggestions for group activities, like taking a mid-winter dip in the frozen lake. Apparently, ice-water built character. As if. His true goals couldn't have been more transparent! The dirty cheat.

Finally, there was Cedric... Handsome, noble, polite, Cedric... Cedric the Hufflepuff... Poor, sweet, Cedric. Unfortunately, Ron's devastating good looks and charming demeanor had claimed yet another victim. It was a hopeless case of infatuation. Ron hated to keep breaking his heart, so instead he'd taken to dodging him in corridors. The man was truly insistent on getting him alone for some private time in the Prefect's bath! What kind of idiot thought that was a good first date idea, anyway?

Besides avoiding the other champions, Ron's days felt surprisingly empty. He'd taken to secretly reading some of his textbooks just to ease the boredom. When Hermione asked what he was doing, he'd said it was research for the tournament. As a matter of fact, Harry's advice about giving misinformation to "Neville," (aka Hermione), was panning out incredibly well. The other day he'd told her that the second task involved solving logic puzzles. Since then, he'd noticed Krum looking even more nervous and shifty-eyed than usual.

Mysteriously, Harry had taken to spending a great deal of time in the library. This puzzled Ron, but not enough to actually ask him what he was doing. That would require communication. No, thank you!

About one week before the second task, Ron abruptly remembered that the dragon's golden egg had a clue in it. He felt a moment of anxiety over his procrastination, but he quickly shook off the unfamiliar emotion. A seasoned adventurer like himself should be able to figure it out easily enough.

As he pondered the situation, Harry burst into their dorm room. "I've got it!" he shouted.

"Got what, mate?"

"I've figured out what the second task is!"

"What, really?" Ron asked, somewhat incredulous. It dawned on him that this must be what Harry had been spending all that time in the library for. Wow. What a friend! What a sacrifice!

Harry grinned happily at Ron through bloodshot eyes. "Yeah, I've got it," he repeated.

"Harry, when's the last time you slept?" Ron asked, slightly worried. The tournament was important and all, but Harry barely looked human.

Harry looked confused by the question. "Um, hmm, well, what day is it?"

"That's it!" exclaimed Ron. "You're taking a nap right now. When you wake up, we can talk strategy."

"What? No," Harry protested. "The task is coming up really soon. We have to prepare."

"No," Ron corrected. "I have to prepare. You have to sleep."

When Harry looked like he might protest some more, Ron just shook his head sternly. "There will always be more adventures for heroes like us, Harry. Sleep is precious. Sleep is important! Sleep is the backbone of this country!..."

Ron's inspiring speech was cut off by Harry's snore.

…

A week later, Ron stood confidently by the Black Lake, waiting for the task to start. He held Gillyweed in one hand and his wand in the other. The only thing that was bothering him was that he had no idea which of his possessions the judges might've taken. It's not like he owned anything important, except for maybe the omnioculars that Harry had given him over the summer. Those were nice, and Ron felt a pang of distress over the thought of his gift being ruined.

As the task was announced, Ron realized with a growing horror that those bastards had stuck Harry at the bottom of the lake. Under different circumstances, Ron might've been soothed by the thought that of course the judges weren't going to let anything bad happen to the hostages. Harry would be fine! However, under these circumstances, staring into Dumbledore's twinkling, diamond eyes… Well, Ron wasn't taking anything for granted. Those peepers were stone cold.

Gulping down the disgusting Gillyweed, Ron manfully shed down to his trunks. He stopped briefly to pose for the ladies in the crowd. Even in this moment of distress, he'd never forget his obligations to the little people. Then, taking a final breath of air, he charged forwards.

Underneath the lake, Ron swam with purpose and direction. The wrong direction, unfortunately, but what can you do?

He soon noticed that the other champions were following him! Frustrated, he turned around, intending to tell them to bugger off.

"We must protect you," gurgled Fleur, before he'd even had a chance to protest. Cedric nodded, mouthing inaudibly from behind the safety of his air-bubble. A malformed shark-man (who may once have been Krum) loomed threateningly behind them.

Ron frowned. No way was he going with these lunatics. He had thrilling heroics to complete, and more importantly, he had to rescue Harry. There was no time to waste with their attempts at sabotage. Luckily, this was the moment the Giant Squid decided to make an appearance.

Fleur shrieked, Cedric fumbled with his wand, and Krum shot off a dangerous looking curse at the enormous animal.

The Giant Squid gracefully dodged the impolite curse. She sniffed. Taking stock of the situation, she deduced that these rude older students were attempting to bully a first-year. Well, not on her watch! Grabbing the tiny red-head with one of her many tentacles, she jettisoned off.

Ron was too startled to be properly fearful as he was dragged across the lake at intense speed. Dumbfoundedly, he watched the water rush by, the squid's massive body protecting him from the force. After an otherworldly two minutes, the squid swung to a stop, grabbing onto a massive rock to halt her progress.

The Giant Squid looked down at her young charge. He seemed okay now that he was far away from those nasty rule-breakers. She nodded kindly at him and gave him a bit of a nudge. Poor thing. She hoped none of the other lake beings would bully him.

Ron awkwardly waved at the enormous creature as it seemingly patted him on the shoulder and swum away.

Shaking off the bizarre encounter, Ron looked around. He saw a shimmering light fairly close by and swum cautiously towards it. One of the ugliest creatures he'd ever seen was guarding what looked like a cave. Ron wasn't an idiot; everyone knew mermen weren't pretty. But this guy was something else. Blimey!

Keeping his face politely impassive, Ron gestured towards the entrance. He received a considering look, followed by a short nod. Waving his thanks, Ron swam towards where he knew Harry must be waiting for him.

Sure enough, just a few yards into the cave, the four hostages were tied to rocks, their hair and robes gently floating around them. Ron shuddered at the unnatural sight of Harry's peaceful face. It just wasn't right.

A cute little doppelganger of Fleur was tied next to Harry. If Ron didn't know the truth about the personality behind Fleur's ethereal face, he might have felt pity for the tiny child. Instead, all he felt was a jolt of fear for the woman the girl was sure to become.

Beside the girl was Hermione. Now that was unexpected. If she was Krum's hostage, then that implied that some genuine feelings had grown. Perhaps Ron had underestimated his brainy friend. His mind whirling, Ron realized that Hermione must've known Krum's game from the very beginning. She'd been playing Krum like a harp! Wow. Ron's heart swelled with pride and appreciation.

As he looked over the other hostages' innocent faces, Ron briefly considered whether he should try to rescue them as well…

Nah.

Expertly, he used a cutting charm on the ropes binding Harry. Helping Mum in the kitchen was finally paying off. He grabbed his unconscious best friend, and began the lengthy swim back up to the surface.

Rising from the water like some sort of lake-based Poseidon, Ron felt the sunlight glistening majestically across his chest. He held Harry in his arms like the damsel in distress that he was, aware of the many eyes looking on in admiration. Unfortunately, his preening was interrupted abruptly by a coughing fit of epic proportions. It was to this fairly visceral experience that Harry regained consciousness.

Half an hour of coughing and sputtering later, the other champions began emerging from the lake with their hostages. Ron tried to say hello, but just hacked up a bit more Gillyweed.

All of them huddled together under their towels, shivering, waiting for the scores to be announced.

"Hermyone?" said Krum quietly, pulling Hermione slightly apart from the rest of them. "You are very important to me. I am wondering if you might come to visit me this summer in my home in Bulgaria?"

Ron grinned. It was really beautiful to see Hermione work her magic on the older wizard. What a schmuck. He gave Hermione an exaggerated wink and thumbs up from behind Krum's back.

Before Hermione could respond, the scores were announced. Ron was pulling ahead by a huge margin! It looked like this tournament was definitely shaping up to be a victory for Hogwarts. Ron grinned.

That night it seemed like all of Hogwarts had snuck into the Gryffindor common room to celebrate. The music was pounding, and Ron was having a blast. He was watching a butterbeer drinking contest when he and Harry were accosted by the twins and a few of their buddies.

"Oi," said Fred. "What's this we hear about Harry being the one you'd miss the most? What about us?"

"Yeah, what's Harry got that we don't?" grinned George.

"Hmm," said Ron, pretending to ponder. "Let's see. What _does_ Harry have that you don't? Does grace, charm, wit, and good-looks count?"

The twins' friends roared with laughter.

"He's got you there, mates!" shouted Lee Jordan, as Fred dramatically pretended to be shot in the heart.

"You've wounded us, truly," said George, shaking his head. The mischievous duo engaged in a dramatic about-face and led their friends back to the dance floor.

Ron smiled, turning to a slightly pink Harry. "Wanna play a game of chess?"

"Yeah," said Harry with a slow grin back. "That sounds great."

The best friends made their way over to the chess table (clearing off some empty bottles), for a wonderful ending to yet another Wonky Adventure™.


End file.
